Friday, April 25, 2008

46/50

Spring Night in Ohio

It's cold enough tonight to have a fire in the woodstove.
It's cold enough tonight for long sleeved pajamas.
Our cats are huddled together somewhere in the barn.
Our dogs are under the covers of our bed.
It's cold enough tonight to listen to Jim Croce's "I've got a name"
And to remember he's a long time dead,
His bushy moustache that I loved somewhere under the dirt.
It's cold enough tonight listen to Frank Zappa's "Dirty Love"
And to remember: he's gone now, too.
It's cold enough tonight to think of adieu.
Adieu: Said to wish a fond farewell; good-bye. ...
good-bye. ... good-bye.
Wood disentegrating in the stove,
smoke escaping from the chimney,
good-bye.

1 comment:

Erin said...

I love this, Theresa. It's very beautiful. Season changes are so powerful.

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"I was no better than dust, yet you cannot replace me. . . Take the soft dust in your hand--does it stir: does it sing? Has it lips and a heart? Does it open its eyes to the sun? Does it run, does it dream, does it burn with a secret, or tremble In terror of death? Or ache with tremendous decisions?. . ." --Conrad Aiken

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Fave Painting: Eden

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Fave Painting: The Three Ages of Man and Death

Fave Painting:  The Three Ages of Man and Death
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The Secret of Hurricanes : That article in the Waterville Scout said it was Shake- spearean, all that fatalism that guides the Kennedys' lives. The likelihood of untimely death. Recently, another one died in his prime, John-John in an airplane. Not long before that, Bobby's boy. While playing football at high speeds on snow skis. Those Kennedys take some crazy chances. I prefer my own easy ways. Which isn't to say my life hasn't been Shake-spearean. By the time I was sixteen, my life was like the darkened stage at the end of Hamlet or Macbeth. All littered with corpses and treachery.

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